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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23256628">Chapter 59 1/2 of AYLNO: Song from the Heart</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/aspeninthesunlight/pseuds/aspeninthesunlight'>aspeninthesunlight</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Side Stories for A Year Like None Other [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AYLNO Side Story, Gen, Severus Snape - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2007-07-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2007-07-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 05:43:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,502</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23256628</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/aspeninthesunlight/pseuds/aspeninthesunlight</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>This side story, written by Rebecca, takes place during and directly after Chapter 59 (“Lumos”) of A Year Like None Other. It fills in some of the blanks that Year leaves. Year had to leave things blank, as it tells things only through Harry's point of view. Now, however, we will see matters as Severus lived them.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Side Stories for A Year Like None Other [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1672093</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Chapter 59 1/2 of AYLNO: Song from the Heart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/742072">A Year Like None Other</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/aspeninthesunlight/pseuds/aspeninthesunlight">aspeninthesunlight</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This side story, written by Rebecca, takes place during and directly after Chapter 59 (“Lumos”) of A Year Like None Other. It fills in some of the blanks that Year leaves. Year had to leave things blank, as it tells things only through Harry's point of view. Now, however, we will see matters as Severus lived them.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter 59 1/2: Song from the Heart  </p><p>-----------------------------------------------------------</p><p>An AYLNO Side Story by Rebecca Lee (labRT2004)</p><p>-----------------------------------------------------------</p><p> </p><p>When Snape stepped out onto the hearth at the Burrow, he was immediately besieged by Molly Weasley.  “Professor Snape!  You’re just in time for dinner.  And a right good dinner you’ll eat, because you’re altogether too thin, my dear.”  Snape restrained an urge to roll his eyes at the matriarch’s exuberance. He concluded that excessive fussing was a trait common to all Gryffindor women, for a picture of the Granger girl’s worried features had flashed unbidden through his mind.  Carefully brushing ash from his robes, Snape allowed Molly to divest him of his cloak and scarf.   Arthur Weasley gave him a quick tap on the back before thrusting a cup of steaming hot tea into his hands.   Nodding his thanks to them both, Snape answered, “Molly, Arthur, good evening,” before proceeding to the armchair into which they were ushering him. </p><p>As quickly as she had descended upon Snape, Molly was bustling back into the kitchen, throwing a “You make yourself comfortable, Professor, while I finish up dinner” behind her. </p><p>Nursing his tea as he settled in, Snape cast a cursory glance about him.  Since it hadn’t been long since he was here last, he was not surprised that little had changed in the Weasleys’ home.  Though he thought he could detect a newly charred spot in one corner of the parlor—no doubt from the twins’ latest exploit, he thought dryly— and the faint smell of some sort of pest expurgate potion, everything remained in a homely state of disorder that befitted an abode occupied by nine.  </p><p>He had to lift his eyebrow, however, when he saw the contraption displaying the current locations of all the Weasleys.  Ronald Weasley’s hand was pointing to “lost.”  Not entirely surprised that Weasley had managed to lose his way inside his own school, he had half a mind to comment to Arthur about the boy's ineptitude. However, before a scathing remark could cross his lips, he remembered the wards on his chambers. A self-satisfied smile crossed his face. Weasley must have been marked down as "lost" quite a bit of late, if every time he went into Snape's rooms the wards shielded his presence from the wizard's clock. That smile became a faint smirk as it occurred to him that the boy lacked the audacity to sneak away during his professor’s absence.</p><p>Well, that was as it should be. Severus liked his students cowed. Most especially the Gryffindors...</p><p>“I trust Harry is doing well?” Arthur asked as he took a seat across from Snape.  Not excessively fond of inane small talk, Snape would have much rather ended it with, “Yes, of course.” Yet, he found himself feeling unaccountably gratified that Arthur would phrase the question in the confiding tones of a father addressing a fellow father.  Snape could not care less what the rest of the wizarding world thought of his relationship with his son, but he supposed that he appreciated, just the same, the Weasleys’ acceptance of his role as Harry’s guardian.  Perhaps a few details wouldn’t be remiss. </p><p>“Harry is adjusting well.  Unfortunately, he has yet to regain his magic, though he continues to recover from the traumas of Samhain,” Snape divulged. “Albus is exceedingly proud of his progress,”</p><p>“Ah, good, good.  I am sure the Headmaster would be most pleased,” was all Arthur answered, though to Snape’s irritation, the reply bore an insufferable hint of cheer.</p><p>If only to wipe the smirk off his face, Snape groused, “And I am also, ah, pleased.”</p><p>“As you should be, Professor,” came Arthur’s still-amused voice.  This time, Snape indulged the desire to roll his eyes.  The idea of him becoming a father seemed to inspire in every person he met an oblique merriment...</p><p>His sullen train of thought was cut short, however, by Molly calling them to dinner.  More relieved than he cared to admit, Snape rose briskly and made his way to the table, his Potions Master’s nose immediately appreciating the aromas of the witch’s excellent cooking.  He made a mental note to acquaint Draco with the virtues of a good, home-cooked meal, for he thought the child was just a bit too conceited in his scorn for learning culinary arts.   </p><p>When they were all seated and had started to dig into the pot roast, Molly finally brought up the topic of Weasley.  “I do hope Ron is not giving you too much trouble, Professor Snape.  He has been quite hot-headed as of late.”  She speared forcefully at her potatoes in disapprobation.</p><p>“Though you have shown yourself most capable of managing him,” Arthur put in dryly, proving to Snape that the Weasleys were not fully pleased by his previous attempt at a reprimand. </p><p>Ignoring the barb, for he stood by his original opinion that Weasley had been acting abysmally dim, even for a Gryffindor, Snape answered, “Young Mr. Weasley is progressing tolerably in his studies.  While his knowledge of potions remains, at best, mediocre, I do believe he would improve vastly from more diligent reading of the text.  And his most recent essay, if I recall, showed some promise.  That said, however, I still recommend that Mr. Weasley continue his studies with Harry and Draco.  The sessions have proven most…beneficial.” </p><p>Molly nodded sagely.  “I understand.  Ron is always reluctant to focus on his work.  Though he’s nothing compared to Fred and George, I suppose,” she mused.</p><p>Before Snape could bring himself to agree whole-heartedly, however, his faculties were suddenly overwhelmed by a frantic buzzing, at the same time that the clock in the parlor emitted an alarming screech.  Immediately recognizing the sound for what it was, Snape experienced a moment of heart-stopping panic as his hand instinctively darted into his robes for his wand. </p><p>Thoughts that had been haunting Snape since Harry’s adoption and fears that had lived daily within the darkness of his subconscious swiftly sprang to life before his horror-stricken mind’s eye.   Death Eaters entering his chambers to take Harry back for the Dark Lord to finish what he had started.  Lucius come to reclaim Draco as his own.  Voldemort, himself breaching the wards …  His chest constricting uncomfortably, Snape blinked and pulled in a ragged breath before shooting up from his chair.  “Excuse me, I must return to Hogwarts at once,” he murmured, already dashing back to the parlor and the Floo. </p><p>Arthur, who had gone to investigate the chiming emanating from the magical timepiece, met him on his way out, the red-haired man’s face ashen.  “Professor, what is going on?  Ron is in mortal peril!”  Behind him, Molly choked.  Having no answers for them and trying to stave off his own hysteria at the implications of “mortal peril,” Snape merely replied, “I do not know,” before tossing down the emerald green powder and disappearing into the fireplace. </p><p>The Floo network had never seemed so long and convoluted to Snape as it did at this moment. Fireplace upon fireplace whirled past him before he finally came to a stop at his own.  For the second time that week, Snape staggered clumsily out onto the hearth, wand poised before him, obsidian eyes urgently sweeping the room. </p><p>Harry.   Neither Death Eaters nor Voldemort stepped forward to meet his wand, but Snape felt his heart leap to his throat all the same, as his vision zeroed in upon the prone form of his son at the far end of the room.  His face deathly white, his features twisted in unconscious pain.  Blood leaking out the corner of his lip.  And Weasley, shaking him vigorously.</p><p>“Weasley, are you simple?” Snape roared, closing the distance between them in two rapid strides.  “Get your hands off of him!  You are making him ill!”</p><p>The Gryffindor quickly lowered Harry back to the ground, as Draco summoned a towel to lay beneath the unconscious boy’s head.  Harry’s face shifted a little towards Snape as the two other boys stepped away.  A soft moan escaped Harry’s lips and the boy’s limbs flailed, though he never once opened his eyes. In a flash, Snape found himself down on his knees, Harry in his arms.  The boy seemed to relax marginally in his father’s embrace, but his features were still pulled into a hard grimace.</p><p>“Draco, send for Poppy,” the Potions Master snapped before resuming his assessment of his son.  Swiping the blood away from Harry’s lip, Snape pried Harry’s mouth open with a finger and ascertained that the wound was minor.  The boy felt warm, and he trembled in his father’s arms, drawing in shallow, uneven breaths. Frowning at the tension coursing through his son’s body, Snape tightened his arms protectively around Harry and cradled the boy’s head against his shoulder. </p><p>Turning to Weasley, Snape demanded acidly, “What happened?”</p><p>His student stopped shifting from one foot to the other and lifted wide, frightened eyes to the professor.  “It...it was a Lumos, sir.”</p><p>“A…Lumos,” Snape repeated incredulously. </p><p>“What Weasley means to say is that Harry had incanted an exceedingly powerful illumination spell which threw him off his feet and caused him to smash his head into the wall,” Draco clarified as he returned from the Floo.  The blond boy extended Harry’s wand toward Snape.  “Neither of us could get it to stop, and it kept right on blazing until Harry fainted.”</p><p>“Uh, and I think he was trying to show it to his snake,” Weasley saw fit to add.</p><p>Pocketing the wand, Snape was distantly aware of something clicking into place, as dark to unlock dark whispered faintly through many layers of magical knowledge.  Understanding sinking slowly in, he suddenly registered the incessant dripping of water from the ceiling.  An oath tried to roll off his tongue as he also noted, with dismay, the gaping hole in his office wall.  Add that to the incinerated remains of the furniture and the charred potions texts strewn about the floor, and Snape was profoundly grateful that Harry had incanted Lumos and not Incendio. </p><p>Sighing, Snape gently maneuvered an arm to beneath Harry’s knees and lifted him up, breathing a soft “Shhh…” in his son’s ear when the child made a small noise of complaint.  Weasley, Snape noticed, was looking utterly stunned.  If not for the boy still in his arms, the Potions Master would have dearly loved to hex Ronald’s hanging jaw back together, but he settled instead for saying, “Mr. Weasley, do go inform your parents that you are still quite alive, for they are undoubtedly beside themselves with worry.  Tell them that it was merely mortal peril by association.”  With that, he spun gracefully toward Harry’s room. </p><p>Snape heard the whoosh of the Floo opening and the muffled voice of Poppy Pomfrey as he laid Harry carefully on the bed.  The mediwitch appeared in the bedroom doorway, along with the two other boys, just as he was about to tuck his son into the sheets. </p><p>“My, my, what have we here?” Poppy moved to stand over Harry, her wand slicing the air above his unconscious form in a series of short, economical motions.  After a few muttered diagnostic spells, the mediwitch pronounced with a frown, “Concussion.  Severus?”</p><p>Returning Poppy’s accusatory glare with one of his own, Snape answered bitingly, “Harry was thrown head-first into a wall when he performed an extremely potent Lumos.”</p><p>Seemingly unfazed by the Potions Master’s ire, Poppy nodded thoughtfully.  “Yes, I did detect some minor magical exhaustion as well, though I can’t imagine why, not in a wizard as powerful as Mr. Potter, here.  Well, then.  Off with his clothes.  I need him undressed to treat him.”</p><p>Snape untangled his arms from Harry to comply with the mediwitch’s orders, but he had barely relinquished his hold when the boy stiffened and moaned piteously.  Turning his face into a pillow, Harry resumed thrashing violently, and Snape, his color draining in alarm, quickly drew his son back into an embrace again, one hand rubbing slow circles on Harry’s back.  “Calm down, you idiot child, I am still right here,” the Professor murmured.  When the boy continued whimpering in distress, Snape lifted Harry more fully into his lap, and sitting down on the bed, pulled the covers around the both of them. </p><p>“You will simply have to treat his injuries without further disturbing him, Poppy,” the Professor whispered harshly over Harry’s hair when his son had finally ceased panicking.</p><p>“Really, now.  One would think he would be over this attachment to you, Severus!  This is the most atypical trauma case I have ever witnessed,” Poppy huffed, though she knew better than to further delay casting the healing spells. </p><p>“There.  The concussion is taken care of, as well as the traces of magical drain.  He won’t require much more than plenty of rest,” Poppy declared after the last swish of her wand produced a set of instructions written on parchment.  Proffering the sheet toward Snape, the mediwitch quirked her lips critically.  “And perhaps a calming draught or two when he is awake, as well.  He appears remarkably overwrought.”</p><p>As soon as the mediwitch had departed, Snape once again turned a concerned gaze upon the boy curled up against his chest.  Though Harry no longer cried out, he was far from relaxed, since his fists clutched fiercely at the folds of the Professor’s robes and his brow was still furrowed around his jagged scar.  As his gut tried to knot itself at the sight of Harry’s unease, Snape grappled for a way to expunge whatever nightmares were ravaging his son’s peace.  It was never his intention to look to the past for guidance; yet sitting here, like this—cradling a child—it resonated in an odd way with him.  It was almost like Occlumency, a subtle rippling as something in his awareness shifted.  Feeling rather out of his element, he did not realize that his mind had started wandering, not until it was too late. </p><p>The Potions Master’s dark, guarded eyes suddenly grew even more shadowed, as ghosts of memories began to rise from the deepest recesses of his soul.  Like hazy, distorted half-dreams, they were, and shutting his eyes, Snape reached out toward the mere wisps, the broken fragments. Faded images, only silhouettes, really, of a lovely, black-haired woman. A whisper of a touch on his forehead and the tinkling of laughter as she pressed a stuffed wizard into his hands.  A hint of apples and orchids along with the rustling of skirts… </p><p>Abruptly, Snape opened haunted eyes, shaken to the core.  It had been such a long time.  Yet, there they were still, shattered remnants of warmth and joy that had somehow remained knitted in his remembrance through two decades of bitter anger and relentless occlusion.  Many, many years ago, Severus Snape had once known a mother’s love…</p><p>As the specters of recollection continued to lick at the edges of his consciousness, Snape heard the faint notes of a song, a bare sigh of music.  Some unfathomable part of his mind understood that it was a song that bespoke of love, a song that had comforted him and made him feel safe during the precious few years that were his childhood. Alien emotions roiling through him, Snape pulled his son closer, and as his mother fed the words to him through the blurred, tinted window of memory, he started singing softly into his son’s ears with a voice that wavered from the unfamiliar use it was being put to:</p><p> </p><p>Come, my child, lift up thine eyes</p><p>See the magic that fills the skies,</p><p> </p><p>He was vaguely aware of Weasley standing in the doorway, looking positively thunderstruck, and Draco perched on his own bed, frozen in rapt amazement.  But as the lullaby continued to surface from the rippling, turning waters of the past, he plunged on.</p><p> </p><p>  Away, we’ll soar in the early morn,</p><p>  On the silver back of a unicorn.</p><p> </p><p>Snape’s concentration intensified as Harry grew lax in his arms, tension slowly bleeding out on deepening breaths.</p><p> </p><p>  We’ll talk to dragons and touch the moon,</p><p>  And dance with swans to a merry tune…  </p><p> </p><p>The fragile thread of memory gave out then, and Snape lost the tenuous grip he had had on the lyrics.  But still, he hummed on, until finally, he detected the lassitude in his son’s body that was at last indicative of deep, restful sleep.  Though he dared not let Harry go yet, Snape gently shifted the boy into a supine position, one hand reaching down to stroke his lolling head. </p><p>The eerie spell broke the moment Harry’s head touched the pillow, and the sounds of two people sucking in their breaths seemed to materialize out of the blue.  Lifting his eyes, Snape warily regarded Weasley still leaning against the doorframe. </p><p>“Will he be all right, sir?” the red-haired boy ventured nervously, looking faintly ill.</p><p>Sighing, Snape replied, “I think he is over the worst.” Then, caustically, he grated, “I do not fancy you as a doorstop, Mr. Weasley.  Go get yourself a chair before you collapse from exhaustion.”</p><p>Weasley actually blushed before stammering, “Uh…yeah…okay, Professor” and backing hurriedly from the room.</p><p>Meanwhile, Draco had been studying his professor with ill-masked curiosity.  Snape felt distinctively annoyed by the Slytherin boy’s uncharacteristic ogling, but before he could dismiss him, as he had Weasley, Draco asked, “So does this mean Harry has recovered his magic, Severus?”</p><p>Deciding that it was a reasonable question that safely steered all of them away from the events that had just transpired, Snape nodded once, adding, “Though I suspect not in the way we had anticipated.”</p><p>At this, Draco’s silver eyes widened. “Merlin! Do you think it was the snake that clinched things?”</p><p>Snape shrugged. "We will not know that for certain until Harry awakens and explains what he did. One wonders, however, why he simply did not speak to his snake again to incant Nox..."</p><p>As Weasley clambered in with his chair, Draco scathed, “That's not too hard to fathom. If Weasley here hadn’t been shaking Harry like some bloody rag doll, I’m sure Harry would have thought of that!”</p><p>“Oh, lay off, Malfoy! You know damn well that I was just trying to keep him awake!  And even if he wasn’t knocked out, the sodding snake was no where in sight, and Harry can’t speak Parseltongue without it!” Weasley erupted belligerently. </p><p>Feeling his irritation flare up anew, Snape glared at each boy and barked, “That will be quite enough from the two of you!  This ordeal has been taxing for all of us.  I suggest you both endeavor to rest in silence.”</p><p>Thankfully, the two boys desisted, though they continued to eye each other balefully.  It was some moments before Draco flopped unceremoniously back down upon his bed and succumbed to his exhaustion.  Weasley was not far behind him, as he sagged tiredly against a wall.  The weight of his own fatigue pressing down upon him, Snape spelled out the lights with a wave of his wand. Then, with one hand still nestled in Harry’s hair, he conjured up a chair of his own and sank into it readily.</p><p>Yet, sleep evaded him, in spite of the soothing darkness enshrouding the silent room.  Though his body was drained, his heart still skipped much too fast and his brain felt fevered.  As he kept vigil over his son, watching the dim, shifting light of the wall sconces cast shadows over Harry’s peaceful, sleeping face, he remembered the sinking terror that had threatened to consume him as he was stumbling from the hearth.  Harry, so limp, his head swinging back and forth lifelessly as Weasley shook him.  His cries and moans that had almost brought Snape to his knees.    The grotesque convulsions that bore a sinister resemblance to Cruciatus.  Eyes clenched shut while he was caught in the throes of some unspeakable nightmare.  His eyes…Snape hadn’t looked at those green eyes all day.  And now they were closed… </p><p>Sensing himself veer off toward irrationality, he reached shaking hands toward those of his son and gripped them frantically.  Never again.  Never did he wish once more to see Harry so…dead-looking.  Though Voldemort most surely would.  Voldemort liked to hear Harry scream.  The Dark Lord enjoyed the sight and scent of Harry’s blood.  Harry had been marked as his equal.  One day, he would have to fight Voldemort face to face, alone, and….. with a half-strangled gasp, Snape yanked his chair forward and desperately pressed a cheek down to Harry’s chest,  seeking a heart beat and finding it.</p><p>Relief washing over him in cool waves, Snape’s eyes drifted closed as he listened to the steady thrumming. Yes, here was Harry.  In his chambers, warm and safe.  With his magic back, not so defenseless anymore.  Harry, who smelled like candy, soap, potions, and boy.  </p><p>Harry, who belonged to him…</p><p> </p><p>Fin</p><p>---------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>Comments very welcome. I absolutely adored this view of Severus and I hope you did to. Rebecca is to be commended for her fine work.</p><p>Aspen in the Sunlight</p>
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